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Updated: June 26, 2025
There it was that roofless cottage that tholthan under the deep trees like a dungeon. "Have you never heard of her, Philip? No? The one they called the Deemster's lady?" "What Deemster?" said Philip. "This one, Deemster Mylrea, who is said to be dying." "He is dying; he is killing himself; I saw him to-day, said Philip.
You are trapsing around Ballure, and letting that poor girl take notions. I'll have no more of it. Is this what I sent you to England for? Aren't you ashamed of yourself? Keep your place, sir; keep your place. A poor girl's a poor girl, and a Deemster's a Deemster." "Yes, sir," said Thomas, suddenly firing up, "and a man's a man.
He could hesitate no longer; his cup was brimming over; he would drink it to the dregs. Jem-y-Lord came with his mouth full of news. The town was decorated with bunting. There was to be a general holiday. A grand stand had been erected on the green in front of the Court-house. The people were not going to be deterred by the Deemster's refusals.
Before any one appeared to be aware that his voice had ceased he was gone from the bench, and the Deemster's chair stood empty. Then the people turned and looked into each other's stricken faces. They were still standing, for nobody had thought of sitting down. There was no further speaking that day. Without a word or a sign the Governor descended from his seat and the proceedings came to an end.
He'll be here in a moment." "My wig and gown, Jemmy," said Philip. "Deemster's wig, your Excellency?" "Yes." "Last time you'll wear it, sir." "The last, indeed, my lad." There was a clash of steel outside, followed by the beat of drum. "He's here," said Jem-y-Lord. Philip listened.
The general impression that night was that the Deemster's speech had not been a proper one. Breaking up with some damp efforts at the earlier enthusiasm, the people complained that they were like men who had come for a jig and were sent home in a wet blanket.
Its fourth side was the dark lane at the back going by the door to the prisoners' yard and the Deemster's entrance. The windows were lit up and partly open. Some of the people had edged to the walls as if to listen, and a few had clambered to the sills as if to see. Around the wide doorway there was a close crowd that seemed to cling to it like a burr.
"When a woman is so unhappy as to try to take her life, it sometimes occurs, only too sadly, that another is partly to blame for the condition that tempts her to the crime." The Deemster's voice was as soft as a caress. "If there is such a one in this case, we ought to learn it. He ought to stand by your side. It is only right; it is only just. Is there anybody here who knows you?"
They would have to face gossip, perhaps backbiting, perhaps even abuse that was the reason she had to be brave. Why and how the Deemster's death should affect her marriage with Philip was a matter she did not puzzle out. She had vague memories of girls marrying in delightful haste and sailing away with their husbands, and being gone before you had time to think they were to go.
While Pete was pouring the brandy into a glass and adding the water, Jemmy caught up a scrap of newspaper that was lying about, rummaged for a pencil, wrote some words on the margin, tore the piece off, and smuggled it into the Deemster's hand. "Afraid of Pete!" thought Philip. "It is monstrous! monstrous!" At that moment there was the sound of a horse's hoofs on the road.
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